


Ni Partayli

by SailorSol



Series: Uncommon Valor [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Death, Angst, Battle Circles, Cadet years, Dred Priest is the worst, Fight Club - Freeform, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Making The Best of a Bad Situation, Neyo needs all the hugs, OC death, Panic Attacks, Sort Of, The Cuy'val Dar are terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25561618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol/pseuds/SailorSol
Summary: “What are you doing here, Colt?”“Checking on you, di’kut,” Colt says.Neyo scowls. “I’m not a tubie. I don’t need you checking up on me.”Colt makes a noise that might be frustration, but something about it sounds off from his usual weary irritation at their squad mates. It’s enough to make Neyo turn his head and take a proper look at his ori’vod. Colt looks like he maybe hasn’t slept recently and is more worried than the last time one of the Shebse showed up in their dorm unannounced.“What?”“I can’t tell if you’re being deliberately stupid or not right now.” Colt watches him for several long seconds, though Neyo isn’t quite sure what he was looking for or whether he finds it before he decides to continue with a sigh. “All the rest of us heard was that a bunch of Priest’s cadets ended up in the infirmary, and one of them died.”Not long after starting his training with Dred Priest, Neyo ends up in the infirmary. Colt is concerned and comes to visit. Neyo remembers his first Battle Circle, and makes a decision.
Relationships: Colt (Star Wars) & Neyo (Star Wars)
Series: Uncommon Valor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893043
Comments: 27
Kudos: 71





	Ni Partayli

**Author's Note:**

> This is nominally set in Projie's Soft Wars universe, but could very easily be canon. Thanks to CmonCmon for the beta and the Soft Wars Discord for enabling.
> 
> CW for one character accidentally choking another character to death, and panic attacks. Note that a Battle Circle is basically the Mandalorian equivalent of Fight Club. This is very much the focus of the story, so please take care!

Neyo is not alone when he wakes. 

He may only be in his third growth cycle, but Neyo learned quickly to be aware of his surroundings, so even with his eyes closed he knows someone is there. He’d shared a dorm with Fox, and the Shebse rarely cared about who they caught up in their shenanigans. It paid to be aware. He can’t quite place where he _is_ , though he knows where he’s _not;_ too quiet for the dorms, too open for a sleep pod. He catches a faint whiff of antiseptic and reckons he’s in the infirmary.

First instinct is to panic, because any injury is a risk of decommissioning. He doesn’t remember what happened, but there’s a delicate balance between what the Kaminoans would expect them to sleep off, and what was considered not worth wasting resources on. If he’s here, he somehow landed in the middle of that scale. That didn’t mean he had cleared the asteroid field yet.

Whoever is with him shifts in a seat that must have been dragged next to the cot; they sound too small for a Kaminoan or a trainer and he can hear soft breathing, which means it’s not a droid.

A brother, then.

“I know you’re awake.”

The voice only tells him it’s probably someone else in his third cycle, which doesn’t narrow things down much. He cracks his left eye open slowly, prepared for the too bright glare of lights. It takes a moment to adjust, and there isn’t much to distinguish one brother from another, but when you spend your entire life surrounded by identical faces, you learn to notice the subtle differences.

“What are you doing here, Colt?”

His voice sounds rough, and Neyo wonders how long he’s been unconscious. Long enough for Colt to go into mother nexu mode. So, not really an accurate gauge of time. His head aches but nothing in particular hurts, so it’s been long enough. He still can’t remember what happened, but if he’d gotten a concussion, that wouldn’t be surprising.

“Checking on you, _di’kut_ ,” Colt says. 

Neyo scowls. “I’m not a tubie. I don’t need you checking up on me.” 

Colt makes a noise that might be frustration, but something about it sounds off from his usual weary irritation at their squad mates. It’s enough to make Neyo turn his head and take a proper look at his ori’vod. Colt looks like he maybe hasn’t slept recently and is more worried than the last time one of the Shebse showed up in their dorm unannounced. 

“What?”

“I can’t tell if you’re being deliberately stupid or not right now.” Colt watches him for several long seconds, though Neyo isn’t quite sure what he was looking for or whether he finds it before he decides to continue with a sigh. “All the rest of us heard was that a bunch of Priest’s cadets ended up in the infirmary, and one of them died.”

The words hit him like a punch to the stomach, leaving him breathless and off balance, and memory comes rushing back. Helping the other cadet on the obstacle course, and then the Battle Circle before any of them had the chance to eat or rest for more than an hour or two; watching others fight, and fight, and keep fighting until one or both couldn’t fight any more. And then Neyo’s number had been called, and it was that same cadet he’d helped; CC-1187, who hadn’t even had a name (or at least not one he’d been willing to share), who had looked at Neyo with grim resignation.

Neyo had sparred with brothers a thousand times, but this hadn’t been a spar. 1187 came at him hard and fast and with intent to _hurt_ , and it took him too many long seconds to realize and react to the attack. 

Even after watching others in the Battle Circle, he hadn’t understood; this was a _fight_ , and the rules of conduct no longer existed. 

“Neyo?”

Neyo definitely doesn’t flinch when Colt calls his name and touches his arm. He sucks in a sharp breath, wishing he could push the memories away again even while knowing it’s futile. He remembers fighting 1187, he remembers Priest egging them on, the jeers and cheers from other vode like the roar of the ocean. He remembers 1187 breaking Neyo’s nose and the coppery tang of blood filling his mouth as the other cadet pinned him to the mat. But Neyo had grown up with Fox, so he knew lots of ways to get out of holds. He remembers the fear and desperation from 1187 as they scrabbled for dominance and Neyo finally getting 1187 into a choke hold.

He remembers waiting for 1187 to tap out. And waiting, and waiting, until 1187 had gone completely limp in his arms. Neyo didn’t let go, because maybe it was a trick, so he eased his grip but held on until Priest finally called hold.

He remembers pushing himself up to his feet, nose still dripping blood as 1187 didn’t move, still on the floor. He remembers Priest’s hand on his shoulder, a heavy weight trying to crush him into the depths of the ocean even as words of praise were mouthed at him.

He remembers waiting, and waiting, and waiting for 1187 to get up. But 1187 doesn’t move and Neyo’s guided away as aches and pains made themselves known to him. The fight had been vicious for all that it couldn’t have lasted more than a handful of minutes. The nose was the most noticeable, but a cracked rib from the make-and-break was probably broken now, and the thin mats on the floor did little to cushion where his head was smashed down at least twice. His memory starts to blur at that point, and he can only guess that the exhaustion, lack of food and water, and new injuries from the fight finally caused him to lose consciousness.

“Neyo?” Colt prompts again, before he is climbing onto the bed and wrapping an arm around Neyo to sit him up. “You’re shaking.”

Neyo closes his eyes and sees 1187, motionless and small. _One of them died_ , Colt had said, and Neyo _knows_ that he was the one responsible. It hurts to breathe and he grabs at the sheets, desperate for something to hold on to, to make the world make sense again. He had killed a brother.

“You need to breathe, vod’ika,” Colt says, one hand rubbing Neyo’s back as the other presses lightly against his chest. “Come on, in and out, I know you can do this. You’re okay, just breathe.”

 _Why should I get to breathe when 1187 doesn’t_? Neyo wants to ask, but the words stick in his throat. His chest burns and he wonders if this is how 1187 felt, like the whole galaxy is crushing him.

The sharp sting of a hand slapping his back forces Neyo to suck in a breath of air, and then a second. He only half hears Colt coaching him through more as years of training takes over and Neyo lets himself be directed. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but Colt keeps talking, soft and sure, and Neyo slumps against him in exhaustion.

“Good. That’s good,” Colt says, rubbing small circles on the backs of Neyo’s hands with his thumbs. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Neyo wants this comfort so badly; has wanted it since two days after being taken away from his squad mates by Priest. But it’s not something he deserves anymore, and it takes all of his energy and willpower to pull away from his brother. “You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get in trouble.”

“Neyo--”

“I’m fine, Colt.” He almost sounds sincere. “Go.”

“Fox and Gree are covering for me. It’s okay.” Colt rests his hand on Neyo’s shoulder, the same one Priest had gripped, and Neyo has to bite back a sob as he scrambles off the bed on shaky legs.

“I don’t need coddling,” Neyo says, putting as much contempt into the words as he can manage. “Especially not from the likes of you.” He sees the confusion on Colt’s face, followed by the hurt, and he wants to apologize but that would defeat the purpose. “I’m not your squad mate any more. I’ve moved on to better things.”

Colt studies him, hurt fading into a blank frown. He stands, putting the bed between them. “If that’s how you want this to be.” His tone is neutral, not a question but not quite an acknowledgement either.

“It is.” Neyo is glad that his voice doesn’t break. He wants Colt to leave, because if he stays any longer, Neyo is going to lose his resolve. Colt will learn the truth about what happened soon enough, and then it won’t matter what Neyo wants because he will be _dar’vod._

This is what Priest wants from the cadets he picks. He wants the ones who won’t think twice about killing a brother, the ones who will let themselves be turned into monsters under the guise of training, of being made into the best. It’s too late for Neyo now, but he can protect Colt, and Fox, and Gree, and the other brothers like 1187. He just needs to be stronger, better, _harder_ , and that means not relying on anyone except himself. He doesn’t deserve the comfort Colt is still trying to offer; he doesn't _need_ it, not anymore. 

He turns his back on Colt’s studying look, still waiting for something to change. Something _has_ changed, but it’s very likely not what Colt wanted. With his back turned, Colt can’t see the way Neyo struggles to swallow before he can find words again. “Fox was right; the Neyo you knew is dead. Get over it and move on.”

Silence, and then a sigh. “ _Ni partayli, gar darasuum. Ret'urcye mhi._ ”

And then Neyo is alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Ni partayli, gar darasuum - I remember you, so you are eternal.  
> Ret'urcye mhi - Goodbye/maybe we will meet again  
> Dar’vod - lit. not-brother, in context cast out, disowned


End file.
